I'm sick and tired of watching Diana Ross parade around with it looking partly cloudy in her mouth. Seriously, if I were to ever met her I wouldn't know if I should ask for an autograph or the five day forecast. And before you stans strap on your captain save a . . . legend boots, kill yourself. There is no excuse. I love my mother-in-law but there is only so much I can take.

Wait a minute . . . is she about to fall out of her dress? HEAVENS TO CHUDNEY!

Use don't abuse (ie. adding me to your site's mailing list). And for the love of God please stop sending mp3 files of your music. I am not Clive Davis and to be frank I probably don't want to hear the shit anyway. You should also know that I take my slow, precious time responding to email. And sometimes I don't respond at all. Fresh.crunkjuice@gmail.com
Fresh@myspace.com